


It's Just Business

by Santai



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santai/pseuds/Santai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki Laufeyson works for Thanos, as a thief, disruptor, destroyer, anything that is required of him to bring down his target company. Not that its he enjoys it. Or that he have a choice. So he grits his teeth and bares it, knowing full well what will happen if he fails. The only true problem arrives, when one of New York's most enigmatic CEO's is to be his next target andthings take a complicated turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The stink of sex was still in the air as Loki stepped out of the bathroom, having finished cleaning himself up. He wrinkled his nose at the man sprawled on the expensive, purple covers of the double bed, silk by the feel of them. He was in his late fifties, flabby, grey hair usually coifed and neat, now a bedraggled mess, clinging to his head in a sheen of sweat. Broken snores growled from his slack jaw as he drooled a little.

Disgusting.

Loki quickly looked away, redressing in the dark, not wanting to turn on a light and risk waking the man. An executive in one of New York’s leading firms, the name of which he had forgotten, the work of which he had never been told. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know to start with. It hadn’t been important who the man worked for. In fact, Loki had begun to make a concerted effort to know as little as possible about those he was targeting. It made his job simpler.

Once he’d dressed and returned some semblance of dignity to his appearance, he slipped from the darkened bedroom and into the lounge of the upmarket apartment that was still lit. Furnished exquisitely with dark wood cabinets and shelves and leather sofas, Loki found himself reluctantly commending the man’s taste. He padded in his socks across the room to the low coffee table standing halfway between one of the sofas and broad, flat-screen TV, and plucked his still full glass from where he had left it earlier. At the time, he’d wanted a clear head to ensure that the conversation went to plan, but now, he was more than ready to begin the process of dulling the memories.

In one swig, he downed the brandy and screwed his face up at the bite of the drink before setting the glass back where it had been. He shook his head to clear the last of the taste and began the final leg of his plan, eager to get the hell out of the apartment.

Almost silently, Loki crossed the short distance to one of the cabinet’s and pulled open the left-hand drawer. Lying in the bottom was a simple, black, bound project book, just where the man had drunkenly confessed it would be only half an hour before.

His lips curved into a grim, satisfied smile as he lifted it out and let it fall open in one hand. With a single finger, he flicked through several pages of scribbled notes and poorly drawn diagrams. Initial plans for something Loki cared little for. All it meant to him that he got to keep his job for a bit longer.

How he felt about that was a matter he wasn’t going to deal with right now.

Sealing off that particular thought train, Loki tucked the book under his arm and reached into the drawer once again. A USB stick was taped against the back panel, hidden from view. Loki slipped a finger behind the tape and easily pulled it away, bringing the stick out of the drawer and pushing it into the pocket of his dark jeans.

That was it. He had just stolen this man’s life work. Ruined his career, his life, his company. In under three days.

New record, came the realisation. Loki snorted to himself as he closed the drawer quietly and left the apartment without looking back.

What good would it do?

Once out in the corridor, he checked his watch. 11:30pm. More than enough time to return to his apartment, make some attempt to wash the stink from his skin and continue the headway on forgetting what he’d done this evening. The brandy hadn’t even scratched the surface.

**

Tony swirled the dregs of his drink, half melted ice cubes chinking against the glass. Quite how he’d found this bar, he couldn’t remember, all he knew was that he was hiding from Steve and Pepper and they already knew all of his usual haunts. Something about falling behind on schedules or something, Tony hadn’t been listening.

This particular establishment was a good distance away from Stark Tower, not far from Central Park. A classy place, filled with men not unlike himself, rich, well-dressed, drinking expensive drinks and talking lucidly over the quiet music in the background. Even the bartender was wearing a shirt and tie. This wasn’t a place to get blind drunk. They’d never look for him here. He smirked at his own ingenuity and finished his drink in one final mouthful.

Sliding his glass back across the bar, Tony indicated for a refill and glanced up at the clock. It was nearly 1am. He’d been there for about 3 hours now, and he had only reached a pleasant buzz. He mentally patted himself on the back and rewarded himself with a sip of the crisp, fresh beverage. Life was good, he decided.

The sound of the bar door opening drew his attention and he turned his head slowly, still holding the glass off the table in one hand. The man stood in the doorway had his attention immediately. He was tall and slim, dressed in a green shirt and black skinny jeans that made his legs seem ever longer than they were. Black hair was slicked back over his head, just brushing his shoulders, framing his face that had features sharp enough to cut. The man stood in the doorway for a moment before entering the bar properly. He stumbled as he walked, clearly already drunk.

Tony followed him across the room with his eyes until he came to lean heavily on the bar top and requested a drink. From his position, Tony couldn’t properly overhear the exchange but it appeared that the barkeeper was refusing him. A dark scowl marred the man’s otherwise very attractive features and he tried again, loud enough this time for Tony to hear the slur in his English accented words. Again the barkeeper refused, having worked long enough to know how to deal with drunkards.

Tony’s body seemed to move without him telling it to do so, sliding off his seat and crossing to stand beside the man, earning himself a confused, though still dark frown from him.

“Hey, Paul was it?” Tony asked the barkeeper who arched an eyebrow at him, “How about we make a deal? One drink, just one, on me, plus a large tip for yourself, and I’ll take him home, sound fair?” Tony wasn’t exactly sure why he was vouching for this guy but he would hate to go home and risk letting a guy who looked like he did get away.

Paul eyed Tony for a long moment before rolling his eyes and turning away to get the drink.

Tony flashed a smile at the man next to him who had lowered himself into one of the seats and was propping his forearms on the bar, “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for help,” the man said harshly, clasping the drink Paul placed in front of him with a fierce possessiveness.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Well aren’t you an angry drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” the man growled, taking a large swig of his drink.

“Uh huh…” Tony watched as the man lowered his drink to the bar and stared at it silently, looking very much like he was on the verge of hurling it against a wall. It did nothing but pique Tony’s curiosity, “Tony Stark,” he held out his hand to introduce himself.

The man glanced at it out of the corner of his eye like it was the last thing he wanted to touch before looking forward again, blinking slowly, tiredly, “I know.”

“You’re supposed to tell me your name,” Tony informed him, retracting his hand. He wasn’t surprised that the man already recognised him. He was a well-known figure throughout the city. One of the few CEO’s that actually made themselves the face of their company rather than hiring a team to do it for him. And he wasn’t exactly subtle in how he made his appearances.

The man turned his head, an over exaggerated movement that he was barely in control of, “Why would I do that?” he asked, curiously, regarding Tony out of the top of those emerald eyes, glazed and distant from alcohol.

“Because I want to know.”

The man chuckled and looked back to his drink, “Well, isn’t that nice of you,” he muttered, taking another mouthful.

Tony frowned, “So you gonna tell me?”

The man shook his head, moving it a little too far to each side, “No.”

“Aw come on, you’re not going to tell me your name even after I bought you a drink,” Tony tried his best puppy eyes.

“Leave me alone,” the man grumbled, finishing his drink in one final swig and going to stand up. He wobbled dangerously, reached out to use the bar as support, missed and nearly planted on the ground. Tony moved quickly and managed to slip an arm under the man’s shoulders before he hit the floor.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’d do just great on your own,” Tony pointed out, lifting the man back onto his feet. He was surprisingly light, even for a guy of his build, and Tony could help but catch a whiff of expensive cologne and shampoo under the fog of alcohol.

“Get off me,” the man hissed venomously, and made a violent attempt to push Tony away, managing to get both his hands onto Tony’s chest and shoving. It was surprisingly strong given his condition and Tony couldn’t help but notice a mix of emotions flicker across the guy’s face. Anger and suspicion that bordered on full blown fear flickered across his features, a little bit of an overreaction in Tony’s opinion.

Tony kept hold of him despite the outburst, “Come on, big guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Tony replied, lowering him back into the seat, keeping one arm in place to steady the precarious swaying, before he pulling his wallet out of his jacket with his free hand and tossing a few notes onto the counter. More than enough to cover the tab and the tip and three other drinks, but Tony just wanted to get the guy out of the bar before he passed out or threw up all over the place. In his condition, he was probably dangerously close to both. Once he had tucked his wallet away, he turned to help the guy back onto his feet, only to find him staring intently at his face.

“You’re very attractive,” he decided, matter-of-factly.

Tony raised his eyebrows and gave a flirtatious smirk, “Well thank you, so are-“

“It wasn’t a compliment,” the man cut him off and dissipating Tony’s smirk immediately, going to stand again. Tony helped him up, despite the new scowl on his face. This time, the man didn’t have the energy to try to escape. He made some incoherent protest but allowed himself to be supported.

“Attractiveness isn’t a good thing?” Tony asked as he guided him out the door of the bar and into the cool night air.

The man opened his mouth to reply but thought better off it, instead twisting out of Tony’s grip as though only just realising he was still in it, “Can walk on my own!” he insisted, stumbling over his own feet and falling ungracefully to the pavement on his hands and knees. A soft groan fell from his lips and he made no move to get up.

Tony sighed as he watched with pity, seeing something of himself in the stubborn drunken man, swaying on all fours. After a moment, he crouched in front of the man’s head and offered a small, reassuring smile, “Hey, come on, let’s get you home.”

The man lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, “Why’re you helping me? What d’you want?”

Tony shrugged, “I don’t want anything; I’ve just been in your position enough times to know when a guy needs help.”

The man chuckled, a little too loudly, shifting his weight back until he fell onto his ass, gazing absently at his lap, “A lie and a falshe assumption. You’ve never been in my position,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly thick with restrained emotion.

Tony tilted his head, “It’s not a lie and try me.”

At that, the man looked up and searched Tony’s gaze intensely, suddenly more aware than he had been all the time they’d been together. His eyes flicked between Tony’s, looking for something. Tony found himself unable to look away.

A note of confusion flickered across the man’s face and he broke eye contact, “S’not a lie,” he whispered, finally, nodding to himself, but said nothing about his ‘position’. After a second, he reached out to place a hand on the nearby building wall to support himself back to his feet.

Tony stood along with him, watching carefully for any sign of him falling again, still incredibly curious about what his ‘situation’ was. It couldn’t be that bad could it? Tony shrugged it off. There was no way he was about to get any answers from the guy in this state. He hadn’t even gotten a name for Christ’s sake.

“So where do you live?” Tony asked conversationally, as the man took a moment to steady himself, placing a hand over his stomach.

At the question, the man frowned and glanced around, before apparently realising he was supposed to be being surly and scowling at him, “Why the hell should I tell you?” he jabbed a finger in Tony’s direction, the force of which made him sway dangerously. But he remained upright.

Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets and regarded the man with calm patience, a look he perfected from seeing it on the faces of Steve and Pepper so often, “Because, Captain Grouch, I’m going to take you home.”

“I can ge’ home on m’own,” the man spat, attempting to take a step forward to prove his point, only to misjudge it and stumble sideways into the wall.

Tony winced, feeling increasingly sorry for the guy. He watched him rest against the wall, having lost the energy to even hold his head up himself and sighed, “I’m not going anywhere. So you can tell me where you live or you can pass out here on the street like some bum and-“

“I’m notaa bum!” the man hissed, violently.

Tony paused at the sudden venom in his voice, “Ooook then, so you gonna tell me where you live? ‘Cause that’s the only option left; I swear not to sell your address to any third parties or send you any unwanted mail.”

The man regarded him for several minutes, while Tony presented his most trustworthy smile and waited patiently. Hurrying a drunk guy, especially one as stubborn as this one, would get him nowhere. He knew that well enough from his own experiences of being this drunk.

Eventually, the man gave up his address. Tony’s eyebrows rose. He lived upmarket. Just by looking at the guy, he hadn’t guess that he was that well off. He was only wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans, dark green t-shirt and grey blazer. Comfortable, sure, but very wealthy? Tony just hadn’t made the assumption.

“That’s not far from here,” Tony mused, glancing around to get his bearings before looking back at the man still leaning on the wall. His eyes had drifted closed, “You gonna let me help you walk, or do you and the pavement want to get better acquainted?”

The man blinked tiredly, but didn’t lift his gaze. He was well past partaking in Tony’s quips, “Jus’ keep quiet on the way.”

“No promises,” Tony replied, smiling as he stepped round to the man’s side and looped an around his waist, lifting the man’s arm over his shoulders with his free hand and gripping it around the wrist, taking his weight easily.

The man made no attempt to get away, but simply leant his weight against Tony, head lolling a little. His energy was almost completely gone.

The walk back was slow, made difficult by Tony’s poor sense of direction and the man’s inability to walk in a straight line. He spent the journey silent, but Tony found himself unable to stay quiet, making occasional pointless observations or checking to make sure the man wasn’t about to throw up all over his shoes or every now and then made a guess of man’s name.

He was always wrong. Or at least, the man didn’t respond.

Eventually, they came to the glass revolving door of a tall, swanky apartment building that could have rivalled Stark Tower itself and the two of them stopped in front of it upon Tony’s new friend’s indication.

“Nice place you got here,” Tony commented, helping the man negotiate the revolving door as he dug around in the pocket of his jeans for a set of keys.

The reception area was equally grand as the outside. A large room was a high, wooden desk to one side, manned by a middle-aged woman who looked too tired to even pretend to be polite. On the wall opposite her was a square set of shelves, each with a pile of mail laid on it. At the far end, three elevators stood side by side, ready to transport the residents to their floor.

The concierge looked up from the magazine she was reading as the man made a wild, pointless gesture. Tony offered a small, reassuring smile and she went back to reading, happy she wasn’t going to have to deal with a drunken resident.

“You’re not coming up,” the man informed him, seriously, once again pointing a finger in Tony’s direction once he had twisted out of his grip. He seemed to have sobered up enough on the walk to enunciate properly and stand on his own feet.

Tony held up his hands in a peace gesture, smirking. Now that he knew the guy was safe and home, he could acceptably find the situation amusing, “Didn’t expect anything less from a guy who hasn’t even told me his name,” he placed a hand on his heart and gave a small salute, “Just wanted to make sure you passed out in a place with heating,” he flashed a grin and turned to leave, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

He had his hand on the revolving door when the man spoke again.

“Loki.”

Tony stopped and looked over his shoulder, mild confusion on his face, “Bless you?”

“My name,” the man said, hesitantly, like he was giving up his greatest secret, “it’s Loki.”

They regarded each other for a while before Tony nodded his head, “I’ll take that as a thank you,” he smiled warmly and walked from the building, head held high.

**

Morning – or at least as close to morning as 12:46 was – greeted Loki with a friendly mallet blow to the forehead and a violent twist to the stomach that was making the ajar door to his bathroom look very inviting. Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat up and moved his legs over the edge of the bed, discovering that somehow he’d managed to strip himself before getting into bed, which was quite the feat considering he didn’t actually remember how he’d gotten back. With one hand pressed to his stomach, he made the journey to the ensuite with slow, unsteady steps, the sudden increase in activity had angered the remnants of alcohol that remained in his system.

His bathroom was all black marble tiling and white porcelain. An ample bath and accompanying shower head took up the entirety of one wall, opposite the toilet and sink with an oval mirror above it, which Loki did his best to avoid. Instead, he went one of the shelves along the free wall and the glass he kept there, then went to fill it with water.

It was finished quickly, the cold water felt good going down his throat, but he would need more than that to mitigate the after effects of the night before. He turned on the shower and emptied and refilled the glass twice more while it ran warm. The room was filling with steam when Loki stepped under the shower. The water wasn’t scalding, though it was a lot warmer than what he was used to. Heat had never really been his favourite thing.

He showered quickly, not entirely sure of his ability to remain upright for an extended period of time, despite how well the water seem to wash away the remains of the night before. He’d felt worse in a morning, but then again, he’d also felt a lot better.

His clock flashed 1:25pm when he came out of the bathroom. There wasn’t much time left. He quickly dried and dressed himself in a well-iron, crisp white shirt the pants of one of his best dark suits. Once he’d dried and appropriately styled his hair, he selected a nondescript tie from his collection, donned socks and shoes, shrugged on his blazer and left the bedroom.

The main body of his apartment was sparsely furnished with a couple of dark leather sofas, smooth wooden cabinets, and a large window that took up the entirety of the far wall with a view over the park. It wasn’t really his apartment and he’d been given little choice over its décor. Though he couldn’t say it was a poor choice. He’d left the black project book and USB stick on his low glass coffee table when he had returned that evening before heading out again. He stood over them for a moment, trying to convince himself that the twist in his gut was the remains of his hangover, rather than that increasingly noticeable sense of guilt that was beginning to creep into his system.

Perhaps that decision to go sober was unwise.

With a force of will, he shook his head and pocketed the stick and tucked the book under his arm before taking his keys from where he must have tossed them on the sofa and left his apartment.

**

His destination was across town but Loki always walked. It helped clear his head and prolong the time before he arrived.

It was a tall building. Not unlike all the other tall buildings in New York, but it seemed to loom just a little bit more over Loki than its neighbours, but he pushed though the revolving doors alongside a steady stream of others going about their business. Loki gave the security guard behind the wide circular desk, and he nodded back, already picking up one of the phones behind the desk to announce his arrival to the man Loki was going to see.

No matter how many times Loki had ridden the lift, he still hated it. Why exactly that was, he couldn’t say. Claustrophobia had never affected him elsewhere. Perhaps it was the sheer simplicity of it. It was a plain, bare metal box with only two buttons, one for each floor it visited; the lobby and the CEO's office, it might have been a service elevator to anyone who hadn’t been told differently. For such a vast and wealthy company, this elevator seemed much more appropriate as a container for transporting livestock to the slaughter.

Maybe that was it.

A sharp ding echoed through the box and a soft female voice announced his final destination. Loki took a deep breath, ran a hand over his hair and adjusted his collar before the doors opened and he stepped out.

There was an old, hunched man waiting to greet him, standing just a few feet from where the lift opened up. Despite his time here, Loki had never asked for, nor cared to find out, that man's name.  Names were for loved ones, friends and family. Liked acquaintances even. This man fit none of those. He barely fit ‘man’.

Loki fought the urge to wrinkle his nose as the man stepped closer, sending an unwelcome waft of the sickly stench of death up his nose.

 “Right on time, Laufeyson,” he drawled in that rasping, choked voice that was could not have suited him better.

Loki eyed him, “I didn’t realise I had a choice.”

The man smiled. Before his time here, Loki would not have believed that anyone could become grotesque when a ‘kindly’ smile graced their features, but this man always managed to achieve it, “I suppose you don’t,” he agreed after his smile had time to make Loki even more uncomfortable, turning back to shuffle back to his desk that was set off to one side, just beyond a set of double, polished, dark wood doors.

Loki followed obediently, requiring a force of will to keep his head up and eyes forward. He was yet to be broken by these people. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to look at those doors. He’d never been through them and he was entirely sure he did not want to. What was behind them was unlikely to be anything but a fate Loki would fight tooth and nail to avoid. Something told him, the moment he was summoned through, he would have already lost everything.

“I see you were successful,” the man observed, watching the book under Loki’s arm with an odd hunger.

Loki dropped it on the desk with a bang, “When am I not?” he replied flatly, pulling the USB stick from his pocket and tossing it alongside the book.

The man took the book and flipped through it, that smile on his face twisting into something akin to what Loki imagined a satisfied goblin might have, “Good,” he nodded, taking the book and the USB stick and tucking them into a drawer.

“So,” Loki started, moving his thoughts swiftly along, doing his best to hide his discomfort by stuffing his hands in his pockets and forcing his shoulders to drop, “who am I to ruin this time?”

The man chuckled; a broken, gravelly noise, more akin to a death rattle than an expression of amusement, “You should be more grateful. Boy. If it weren’t for us you would still be cowering in a box in that squalid back alley, begging,” he replied, lowering himself carefully into the chair behind the desk in a way that seemed as though every movement caused him pain.

Loki swallowed, but said nothing. This was one of the few places his silver-tongue could not help him. After all, it was what had drawn Thanos to him in the first place. That didn’t stop Loki contemplating how much of a kindness it would be to the world to end this man’s withered existence. The thought was a small satisfaction.

After a moment, the man’s mouth lifted into a smirk and he slipped a brown file, that had been hidden under a pile of papers, across the polished wood, “Stark Industries has been quiet for a while now,” he watched as Loki picked up the file and let it fall open in his hand, “Tony Stark is working on something big. We want it.”

Silently, Loki glanced through the pieces of paper held together in a paperclip. He had heard of Tony Stark. His face was often featured on the news, for anything from being the leading name in the energy business to the consequences of some of the man's more outrageous actions out of hours. Loki had been to enough events in the higher circles to have seen him first hand. Of course, they had never exchanged so much as a glance. That is until last night. It was only when he was looking at the photo just inside the front cover that a rush of memories from the night before came flooding back. He mentally swore to himself, hoping to god he hadn’t already given too much of himself away. To his recollection, he’d only given his name and apartment building. Not that his recollection would be entirely accurate. He supposed, it may even serve an advantage

After a long silence, he gave a curt nod and closed the folder, not taking his eyes off it, using it as an excuse to avoid having to cast his gaze over the man for as long possible.

“You will have it. I have yet to fail,” Loki replied airily; a poor attempt at mocking the man. Especially considering the effort it took to lift his eyes.

“Oh, then you’d better not start now,” the man smirked.

Loki tried to hold the man’s stare as a show of defiance, but he managed less than a few seconds before he turned sharply and strode for the elevator, desperate to get away from the man, the office and that door.


	2. Chapter 2

The job didn’t truly start until a couple of days later. Along with the information about Tony Stark, the details of a large, business sponsored event had been tucked inside the brown file. Some big soiree to impress the rest of the city, both rivals and friends. Loki had been to enough of them to know the drill. It had been confirmed that Tony Stark would be attending this event, and so Loki’s presence would not be far behind, not in Thanos’s name, just as an innocent guest.

Loki stood outside in the dark, being ignored by the well-dressed men and elegant women heading for the entrance, looking up at the grand building. It was a little way outside the main bulk of New York City, giving its guest the luxury of a gravelled parking lot. At the moment it was stocked with an array of expensive cars, the odd one occupied by a bored driver, who would no doubt be there for a while, while their employers enjoyed their rich talk and fine champagne. Loki’s black Aston Martin was amongst them, where he’d parked it himself, despite the continued and frantic protests of a young valet who’d be out of a tip. Still, he’d left the keys with them. He didn’t particularly like the car. It was just another one of those things that he possessed, but didn’t own, nor had he had any choice over it. It had been given to him along with the apartment; not out of the goodness of Thanos’s heart, merely to create an image to clients he needed to get close to. Loki wouldn’t have even been able to afford a push bike, let alone a sports car.

But this was wasting time.

With a sigh, Loki returned his attention to the ornate, wooden double doors ahead of him, where his target would already be waiting for him. Not that Tony knew it, of course. He took a final second to adjust his outfit, checking his reflection on the glass of his phone before pulling back his shoulders, affecting the appropriate expression, and striding for the doors. The act was about to begin.

**

The ‘party’ was in full swing. Classical music flowed through the air from the string quartet tucked in an alcove to one side of the grand white room playing a no doubt world famous piece, while suited men and gowned woman drifted amongst each other, occasionally stopping for conversation or to pluck a tall glass of sparkling wine from one of the waiters’ silver trays. It certainly wasn’t Tony’s idea of a good time. But it was one of those shindigs that he had to show his face at, if only to keep his PAs off his back. Steve and Pepper had been going on about it for months, to the point where Tony was actually beginning to believe it might be of some fun.

It wasn’t.

After a quick sweep of the people, Tony made for the bar; champagne just wasn’t going to be enough to get through a whole night of this. It took several minutes to get across the room. Stark Industries -  with its revolutionary work on clean energy and its less than shy CEO -  was well known, so it wasn’t a surprise that there were so many there that wished to speak with him. Tony managed to brush off most of those who greeted him with a nod of the head and a tight smile before moving on. There was the odd person who managed to collar him and drag him into a conversation about stock prices or share holdings, inevitably leading to the topic of his work. As soon as it was mentioned, Tony started off again with a simple utterance of ‘top secret’ followed by effectively ignoring the person in question until they gave up trying. Getting a drink back at Stark Tower would never have been so difficult.

Once he was finally there, he leant on the marble bar top and pulled a couple of notes out of his inside jacket pocket as he gave a muttered order of ‘bourbon on the rocks’ before turning to lean his elbows counter behind him and watch the people drift around him. No, definitely not his scene. These things were all the same. Rich, influential, boring men and women stand around and talk about rich, influential, boring things until eventually they run out of talk about the rich, influential, boring things and move on to the next rich, influential, boring man or woman and start all over again.

There was one thing he noticed though.

One man who seemed a little less tedious than the sea of suits he was passing through. Maybe it was the green and gold scarf that hung loosely around his neck, or the jet black hair that was considerably longer than what most of those around him would deem to be appropriate, slicked back into flicks that stuck out down the back of his head, just brushing his shoulders. Or the exasperated bored expression he wore on those sharp features that seemed to match Tony’s own. Not that the reason mattered. He just couldn’t believe his luck.

Tony twisted as the man moved out of the crowd to lean on the bar a little way down from him, partly to hide the fact he was watching, partly to take a sip of the drink that was now waiting for him. He lingered until the man had ordered something before subtly sliding closer.

“Loving the scarf,” he commented, making the man turn his head to regard him with a pair of curious green eyes, eyebrows arched, “In fact, the whole outfit, just works. Kudos. What is that? Italian?”

The man’s lips lifted in mild amusement as he turned more fully, closing his eyes momentarily, only to reopen once he was mirroring Tony’s stance, one arm resting on the bar top, “British, actually,” he replied, smoothly.

Tony raised his eyebrows, the clipped English accent taking him a little off guard, very different to the slurred, half muttered words he’d heard last time they’d met, “Well, you’ll have to put me in touch with your tailor, because just, wow,” he paused to take a sip of his drink, smirking at Loki, wondering if he actually remembered their previous encounter, “I must say, this is an unexpected pleasure.”

The soft hitch of Loki’s lips gave him his answer, but it was hidden quickly, “Unexpected?” the man asked, not sparing Tony's hand any attention in favour of picking up his own, newly mixed cocktail, “Why is it so, unexpected?” he watched intently for a reaction as he took a sip of the cloudy white drink.

Tony shrugged, “Well, last we met I had to act as your personal stand. That kind of behaviour here might get a guy thrown out.”

Loki chuckled a little, “I do apologise, I did not realise you shared the philosophy of these fine men and women.”

An amused smile came to Tony’s face, “So what are you really here for? Business, science, or let me guess, an avid fan or even my very own professional stalker?”

Loki chuckled, replacing his glass gently on the bar, “I suppose that would depend on which you would prefer."

Tony couldn’t help but smirk as he eyed the man, a small smile playing on his lips, “I think I like sober you, Loki.”

“I’m surprised you remembered my name, thinking about me were you?”

Tony smiled, “It’s unusual. What is that? British? Continental?”

“Norse, in fact,” Loki replied easily, “After the god of mischief.”

“God of mischief,” Tony parroted, deciding that it was at least in part appropriate, “Your parents must have had some high hopes.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” he broke eye contact to look out into the crowd, features having lost all expression save for a slight distance look in his eyes, “I never met them.”

“Heavy,” Tony stated, before sipping his bourbon, if only to hide the thoughtful silence that came as he took the opportunity to sweep his gaze over Loki. Perhaps this party would not be an entirely lost cause after all, he thought to himself, “You know you’re an interesting fellow.”

Loki brought his eyes back to Tony's, a new glimmer of amusement in them, “Oh? Pray explain.”

“Well there’s that for one. I mean, come on, who talks like that? Seriously. Secondly. God of mischief. Really?” he pulled a sceptical face to which Loki grinned fully and glanced away, making Tony pause and smirk. That was one hell of an impish grin, “Now, see, with a smile like that I could believe it. Thirdly, and most interestingly, you seem entirely underwhelmed by me.”

Loki chuckled to himself as he tilted his head thoughtfully, “Granted, I remember little of our previous encounter, but from what I can piece together, I had pictured someone...” he paused as he swept an evaluative gaze over him, not hiding the smile that came with it, “...taller.”

Tony frowned. He had expected more along the lines of ‘we don’t know much of you across the seas’. It was almost an insult. But strangely, there was something about Loki that made him not mind. If he was being honest, there was little he wouldn't let him get away with, with an accent like that, “Okay, that’s a first. My height? No one’s gone for that one before. You’re what? 6’ 1”, 6’ 2”?” he asked, leaning back to look Loki up and down, “That’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

Loki raised his hands in a gesture of peace before placing one over his heart, “You have my most sincere apologies, Mr. Stark," though any sincerity that might have come with the gesture was lost in that grin.

“Please. Call me Tony,” he interjected, waving off the formalities. Tony, at least, was far past that.

“Tony,” he repeated, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly as the name slid from his lips. Tony had never heard his name said better, “My manners are not what they should be. Perhaps I could make it up to you.”

“Well, this party is putting me to sleep,” Tony replied immediately, just waiting for such a scenario to come up, “And I have a couple of bottles back at my Tower that are just _screaming_ after party. So how about you and I -”

Loki inhaled through his teeth, “A tantalising offer, but one that I must decline. I have a meeting in...” he checked the watched strapped around his wrist, “...an hour and a half. It would not do to be late.”

Tony blinked, it was rare for him to be turned down. It was irritating, “What? You work for owls or something?”

Loki's eyes creased as he smiled, “Nothing so mystical.”

“It’s big though. The company you work for?” Tony asked, curiously watching as he lifted his drink to his lips. For all their conversation, the only thing that Tony actually knew about this guy was that his nameless parents wanted him to grow up to be the king of mayhem. And Tony found himself surprisingly curious.

“Oh yes,” Loki replied, lifting his chin with a note of pride, “One of the biggest.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. That was a challenge if ever he saw one, “Would I have heard of it?”

“Probably,” Loki nodded, smirking. Tony’s poker face of idle curiosity clearly wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped.

“I could easily find out, you know.”

“Then why should I tell you?” was the immediate comeback, laced with victory.

Tony glared playfully at him as Loki merely sipped his drink innocently and watched him with those intense green eyes, daring retaliation.

A few moments of a silent staring contest strung out between them until Tony finally shrugged, “Rain-check on that after party then?” he sniffed, deciding he may not come out on top if he continued with the previous train of conversation.

“Rain-check,” Loki agreed, the phrase sounded practically foreign when he said it, “Though surely there must be a party first?” he asked, the glint in his eye telling Tony it was less a question. More a request.

“I’m sure I could arrange something.”

Loki smiled, “I don’t doubt that,” he grinned before picking his drink off the bar top and standing upright, purposefully demonstrating the height difference between them, “Now, you must excuse me. Tony. It was a pleasure meeting you. Properly this time.”

“Likewise,” Tony replied simply, raising his drink a little in farewell.

Loki returned the gesture, not hiding a final sweep of his gaze over Tony or the soft hitch of his lips as he turned and headed away through the crowd.

Tony watched him go for a moment before turning and heading along the wall towards a flight of stone stairs that lead up to a balcony overlooking the main room below. Once there, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to the crowd, quickly opening the camera as he searched the people’s faces. It wasn’t long before he spotted Loki’s dark, distinctive hair and snapped a photo as the man twisted his head to say a few words to someone he passed. Tony spun away quickly showing his back to the crowd, in case Loki happened to glance up and thought perhaps he was stalking him. Tony Stark did not stalk anyone.

“JARVIS,” he said quietly, “Get me everything you can on this guy,” he ordered, sending the photo.

“Right away, sir,” came the calm reply as Tony put his phone away and twisted slightly to watch as the man hesitated in the exit to look over his shoulder, searching the room before his gaze came to land momentarily on Tony. His eyes lingered there for a second then he grinned to himself returned to the party, with a renewed spring in his step.

**

As soon as he stepped out of the building into the cool night air, Loki dropped the act, tugging the scarf from his neck and stuffing it back into the deep pocket of his jacket. There was, in truth, no meeting, but a man such as Tony Stark could not be given everything he wanted when he wanted it. He must dangle a lure in front of him, then take it away and make him chase. He couldn’t, in all honesty, say he had not enjoyed the encounter. Tony Stark had a sharp mind and a sharp wit, certainly not a poor conversationalist. But enjoyment was not his priority. He had gained little information, though that had not been the goal for this particular part of the plan. From the few and far between conversations Loki had overheard, Tony would do anything to avoid talking business. For now, all Loki could hope for was Tony’s attention. Something which he was fairly sure he had.

A young valet was waiting by the door, hands folded neatly behind his back, a tired, overly welcoming smile on his features. Loki didn’t return it as he presented the small slip of paper he’d been given when he arrived, declining the offer to have his car brought round for him. He needed to make a phone call anyway, and the privacy of his car would be the best he could get until he returned to his apartment. Besides, letting someone else have control of his things was something that made his skin crawl. He had never let anyone into his apartment, drive his car or handle his pseudo-possessions. He had little enough control in his life as it was.

He crossed the gravelled car lot quickly. Though the he highly doubted Mr. Stark would follow him out, a second conversation was to be avoided as best he could. The darkness away from the bright lights of the building was oddly comforting. Once he was seated in the leather front seat with the door closed behind him, he removed his jacket and pulled his phone from his pocket and rang the only number he had memorised. There were none on the phone itself, just in case anyone was the chance across it. Yet another one of Thanos’s ploys to keep Loki’s affiliations a secret.

It rang twice before that disturbing voice answered. Loki was just grateful he didn’t have to hide the wrinkle of his nose.

“I’ve made contact,” Loki stated simply, wanting more than anything to keep the phone call brief. “There is nothing of interest to report. I will be in contact again when I have something more.”

Loki hung up before the man had a chance to reply. The man’s voice had always sounded s much worse on the phone, the disembodied nature a phone call gave it made it seem as though Loki were actually talking to the dead. There was always a small satisfaction that came with deleting the record of the call from his phone and once it was done, he tossed the cell carelessly onto the passenger seat and drove away without a second glance.

**

“How was it?” Pepper asked as Tony strode out of the elevator an hour or so later, into his penthouse, flinging his jacket to one side barely sparing his PA a second glance. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected either of them to still be awake. It was nearly 1am.

“Dull,” Tony replied simply, stopping in the middle of the room and clapping his hands together, “What have you got for me, JARVIS?” he called loudly, “And please tell me nudity is involved," he muttered as an afterthought as he crossed to the table top that acted as a physical interface with the AI.

Pepper rolled her eyes as he bent to pick up Tony’s jacket, watching as JARVIS materialised a large camera photo of a tall, blacked haired man, before it was quickly shrunk back and followed by various pieces of texts and other photos, thrown into the air in a haphazard fashion. Raising an eyebrow, Pepper stepped forward to inspect the picture closest to her.

“So boring you had to resort to stalking, huh?” she commented, “Is this the guy you mentioned the other day?”

“It’s not stalking,” Tony retorted, lifting his hands to enlarge one of the few photos JARVIS had provided and stepped back to look at it through narrowed, scrutinizing eyes, “It’s...research,” he continued in a distracted tone before flicking the photo back into the wall of information and pulling forward a couple of the pieces of text.

“His name is Loki Laufeyson,” JARVIS announced, “It appears there is little information about him. He has virtually no online presence.”

Tony scowled, sceptically, “No facebook? Twitter? Drunken youtube video?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“A man after my own heart,” Tony muttered with a small, impressed smile, flicking through the photos, mostly taken at the kind of soiree from which Tony had just come. There were none of him in anything other than a well-tailored suit and tie, talking with dignitaries that Tony recognised, as well as quite few he would never be able to get close to. It was strange how a man so well connected was so unknown.

 “Except for that youtube video," Pepper input with a half-smile, but Tony ignored the jibe, so she sighed and took a step forward, “Let me guess, some guy refused to give you his phone number, so you decide to go through every single detail ever published about him online. Don’t handle rejection well, do you?” Pepper smirked at her victory, laying the jacket over the back of one of the leather chairs.

Tony gave a sarcastic laugh and shot a glare over his shoulder, before turning back to frown at the information, “Who’s he work for?”

There was a brief pause as JARVIS searched, “He worked in a high capacity for Asgard corporation for over ten years. However, he left four years ago due to an unspecified disagreement with the CEO. After that, there is no information.”

“Mr. Blake might know him,” Pepper mused, clearly now almost as intrigued as her boss.

“If the internet doesn’t know I doubt Thor would. Asgard isn’t exactly the smallest of companies,” Tony muttered, more to himself than to Pepper, frowning as he continued to flick through the information. Loki worked for someone big. Or did he? For all he knew, he could just be some rich guy’s son who likes to make himself known. God of mischief probably wasn’t beyond a little lie. Tony couldn't help but like this guy more and more.

“Still, you should ask him at the meeting tomorrow,” Pepper told him, pausing for a reaction and scowling when she didn’t get one, “You do know you have a meeting with Mr. Blake tomorrow, don’t you?”

Tony made a non-committal grunt, a noise which Pepper had come to recognise as her cue to let the guy have some time alone. She gave a quiet goodnight, and took her leave.

With a sharp exhale, Tony centralised the photos into a neat grid and leant back onto the back of the sofa behind him, folding his arms across his chest, one hand stroking over his beard.

Loki Laufeyson was a very interesting fellow indeed. There weren’t many people who were able to keep themselves almost entirely off the internet. Especially all those deep, dark corners that most computers couldn’t get to without some substantial software. Of course, Tony had some of the most substantial software known to man. Loki would certainly have one hell of a story behind him. He had certainly piqued Tony’s curiosity, which was a difficult thing to accomplish.

“Pepper!” he called, only turning when he got no answer, completely unaware that his PA had left the room. With a put out scowl, he lifted his chin, “JARVIS, send Pepper up here.”

A few minutes of studious silence passed as he flicked through some of the few passages about this Loki. There weren’t many. His name was listed on a few high end events that Tony wasn’t even invited to, but then it was missing off those that Tony had refused due to their, well, league. There was just no pattern. The only other mentions of him anywhere else was on a couple of magazine mailing lists – mainly small publications that Tony had never heard of - to the apartment block Tony had helped him stumbled back to the other night. Whoever this guy worked for, they paid upmarket. Even with that, though, his name didn’t come up on any lease or deed that was published online.

“You rang, Tony?” Pepper interrupted his thoughts from behind with an exasperated tone to her voice.

Tony raised his eyebrows as he turned, “Keep up that attitude and you’re not coming to my party.”

Pepper folded her arms, “What party?”

“This Friday,” Tony announced, “Here. House party. Invite everyone we know.”

Pepper blinked, taking a second to process whether her boss was actually being serious or not, “That’s tomorrow, Tony. You have a meeting with Thor tomorrow.”

“Invite him,” Tony replied flippantly, “I’m sure Mr. Blake would have a most merry time!” he took on his best impression of the man’s booming voice before grinning at Pepper, only for it die when he saw that the only response he received was  the rise of an unimpressed eyebrow.

Pepper opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, leaving again without another word. Tony smirked to himself spinning back to face the wall of information in front of him.

“One last request JARVIS, since you’ve let me down on workplace, video and nudity, get me a phone number,” he asked, throwing his arms forward, waiting for JARVIS to pull it out of the text.

“I’ve found one, sir.”

Tony grinned.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was at least half past ten when Loki pulled up outside Stark Tower. He straightened his blazer as he stepped out of his car before tossing the keys to a young valet who had hurried forward the moment he had pulled up. Tony had probably hired them for his party. Impressive considering it had only been organised in a day. As he approached the revolving door, he took a moment check his appearance in the reflection of the glass. He’d gone for a more casual outfit for this evening. Dark jeans, white shirt, thin black tie, finished off with a grey, slim fitted casual blazer, trimmed in black. His hair was slightly more out of place than the previous night, not unruly, but not as controlled either. It lay more forward than usual brushing the tops of his ears and a few thick strands of his fringe were allowed to fall over his forehead. Satisfied with his appearance, Loki continued forward into the main lobby. The reception was rather grand, yet modern, built from grey stone, steel and glass.

Tony Stark had taste, Loki decided.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I presume,” a male voice called across the room, drawing Loki’s attention at the call of his last name. It was rare that anyone but those he worked for used it and he couldn’t decide whether it was unwanted reminder or a refreshing change.

The man crossing the reception towards him was wearing a smart, grey suit, neat blonde hair and welcoming smile. One of Mr. Stark’s employees, Loki presumed, a close one at that, judging by his apparel. It was expensive, not something that was used as just a mass produced uniform. He returned the smile, “Just Loki, please. I’m not especially fond of my family name.”

The man nodded and smiled, “Of course,” he agreed, extending a hand once he was close enough, “Steve Rogers, one of Mr. Stark’s P.A.”

“Personal assistant to Mr. Tony Stark,” Loki said, announcing the job with a soft note of respect, taking the outstretched hand and giving a single shake before letting go, “You must be a commendable man to take on such a task.”

Steve smiled at the compliment, “Well, it’s not just me. He’s told me a lot about you,” he continued, gesturing for Loki to walk with him as he headed towards the back of the lobby and through a set of glass doors.

Loki narrowed his eyes momentarily, “Oh, I doubt that’s true,” he murmured as though a simple utterance to himself, but making sure it was easily audible to the man walking beside him, even as Loki moved his head to take in the signs and postings on the walls.

Steve raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, the movement drawing the attention of Loki’s gaze.

“What he knows about me would not be defined as ‘a lot’, far from it, in fact. He can’t talk about what he doesn’t know,” he answered the unasked question, pushing one hand into his jeans pocket, the other handing loosely by his side.

“That hasn’t stopped him before,” Steve mumbled to himself, bringing them to a halt in front of the silver doors of a lift.

Loki’s eyes creased, “So I’ve heard.”

A short pause hung between them as Steve pushed the button to call the elevator while Loki considered Steve Rogers, knowing better than to let the silence draw out into awkwardness. If he was to get close enough to Tony he had to make sure the man wasn’t being warned off by his closest employees, “This is a remarkable building,” he noted eventually.

Steve glanced up and around before nodding, “Mr. Stark had a direct hand in the design.”

“Really?” Loki asked with feigned surprise. Of course he already knew, it was one of the first things he had come across in his research, “That is most impressive.”

Steve nodded, a slight but fond smile on his lips that was wiped as the elevator arrived and the doors opened. Loki had caught it though. There weren’t many that would talk of their bosses in such a way. Especially a personal assistant often tasked with their employers least desirable jobs. Something that Loki had presumed came quite often in the service of Tony Stark.

 “He likes to have things his own way,” the PA continued, stepping into the lift, eyes going straight to the bank of buttons.

Loki ignored his quiet tang of unrest before following, “No doubt causing you no end of irritation,” Loki commented, smiling conspiratorially as though the two were sharing an inside secret, “From what I’ve heard, Mr. Stark can be quite the handful.”

Steve chuckled, but it was not the exasperated laugh of a man wearied by his work, “You can say that again,” he replied, facing the doors as they closed, “Never a dull day though.”

Loki raised a curious eyebrow, “You enjoy it then? Working for Mr. Stark?” he asked, watching the man intently for his reaction. To gauge him properly, Loki needed more than just his words.

The PA shrugged, “It has its moments,” he replied with a grin that told anyone who saw it that it meant so much more to him than Steve was ever going to admit.

Suddenly, there it was. The first wave of guilt crashed over him. Loki simply gave a twitching smile and looked to his feet, searching the floor in order to keep his eyes averted. Those who had once known him would say how his eyes spoke volumes while his features were set and stony. It could be a problem at times if he was not concentrating wholly on the task at hand.

The first surge was always easiest to brush aside, it took nothing more than a mental shrug and a quick flash of those double doors in his mind’s eye. Reminding himself what he stood to lose. Guilt wasn’t usually a problem. By the time it became debilitating, Loki had often delivered the secrets and the matter would be washed of his hands. Tony Stark, however, was going to be particularly difficult. Loki was going to have to become part of the man’s life. Live it with him. See what he loved and lived for. See what he was going to lose, when Loki finally snatched it away.

A second flash of that door was needed before he could lift his head again, glancing away from Steve.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying,” Steve started, thankfully stealing Loki from his thought train, “You’re different to the kind of person Tony gets attached to.”

A single eyebrow arched with genuine intrigue, “How so?”

“You just seem more...mature.”

Loki gave a breathy chuckle and looked forward, “People often become attached to different people for different reasons, Mr. Rogers,” he mused before looking back to Steve, “He is attached to you, for example. Is he not?”

There was a moment’s pause as Steve considered the idea before raising his eyebrows and nodding agreement, “Never looked at it that way before.”

The thump of loud music could be heard even before the elevator came to a stop. It poured in when the doors opened up, revealing the semi-lit penthouse beyond, a wide open room with the far wall made entirely of glass giving a spectacular view of the city. The room itself seemed to be divided into two parts, the space that the elevator opened up onto, where guests stood in small groups laughing and joking amongst themselves, and then there was the area of floor that had been lowered a couple of feet, joined to its second half by a couple of small staircases. It created a makeshift dance floor, a throng of men and women were bunched together, moving in time to the thud of the music. Loki couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at it.

“I’ll have to leave you here,” Steve said apologetically.

“Of course, more people to greet,” Loki finished, waving off his need to explain.

Steve smiled, “It was good to meet you.”

Loki inclined his head, “You too, Mr. Rogers,” he replied before stepping out into party, hands in his pockets, shoulders pulled back.

His first encounter with an employee was less productive than Loki would have liked, but this was a job focused almost entirely on Tony Stark. This kind of job took time. Regarding the mass of people on the lower section of the room with aversion, Loki began to move around the higher section of floor towards the mahogany bar set against the wall. Being pulled into that mass that was not something Loki would allow to happen. The mere thought was enough to twist his features into a grimace. He didn’t like to be touched at the best of times, so to be at the centre of something so enclosed and crowded was his idea of hell.

The rest of penthouse was exactly what Loki had been expecting. Suave, simple, elegant. No over the top furniture or brash designs, everything was dark wood and polished glass. The few sofas and chairs were leather, already occupied by men and women either already partially intoxicated or resting from a period on the makeshift dance floor. So far, Tony Stark wasn’t to be seen.

But then, Loki wouldn’t have approached him anyway. That wasn’t how this game was to be played.

“What can I get you sir?” the waist-coated barman asked politely when Loki came to a stop in front of the bar. Yet another hired lackey brought in for just the evening.

“Black Russian,” Loki replied, not paying attention as the drink was mixed, simply watching the crowds until it was done.

He muttered a quiet thank you and began to move through the crowds towards the door to the balcony that arched around the front of the building.  

Once outside, he dropped his shoulders and found himself relaxing. The loud music had dulled and the masses of people reduced to just a few, talking idly amongst themselves in groups of two or three, often smokers. Occasionally someone would break off to exchange a few words with Loki as he passed, but nothing so invasive as those within the building. He would politely return their interest before slipping away to an empty space on the glass wall of the balcony, looking out over New York. He had to admit one thing. Stark Tower did not disappoint.

Loki wasn’t waiting for long before a voice called his name. Though it was not the voice he was expecting. For a moment, Loki could swear he was mistaken, at least that’s what he hoped for. However, he was devastatingly mistaken when his name was repeated. Loki tensed his jaw and turned his head a little to find a man he had never thought to see again.

Donald Blake, or Thor as everyone called him due to the thick ropes of muscles that were currently being restrained by a dark jacket, was approaching cautiously along the outer balcony, a hestient smile on those classically handsome features, watching him intently from under that mess of blonde hair. He hadn’t changed in four years.

A knot twisted in his stomach and his throat unexpectedly thickened. Was that panic? Or was it- no. Loki swallowed that feeling back. He felt nothing for Thor, he told himself. Not anymore. It had been four long years since he had last seen him, or spoken to him for that matter. Any form of friendship had died a long time ago, killed off, any remnants had twisted into a simmering hatred that Loki hadn’t been aware of for a while now. But now that Thor was stood just a few feet away, it had all come flooding back. Loki forced himself to take a nonchalant sip on his drink, if only to push everything to one side.  All Thor was now was a hindrance to his work, and he couldn’t afford this kind of hold up.

“Loki!” Thor announced, suddenly sure he had gotten the right person. A grin plastered his face and his arms were thrown out sideways as he closed the remaining distance between them quickly, and enveloping Loki in a tight hug before the man had the chance to protest, or even protect his drink, “Loki! It is you! I thought never see you again.”

Loki gritted his teeth hard and shoved the bigger man back with ease. As strong as Thor was, he’d always recognised when someone else didn’t quite want his affections. This was one such time, “What the hell are you doing here?” Loki hissed venomously.

Thor gave a confused frown. Even his kicked puppy impression hadn’t changed. Clearly he hadn’t expected the hostility. After a moment to collect himself, Thor responded, “I am representing Asgard in negotiations with Tony. He invited me, and said you might be attending. I thought perhaps we might be reunited, it has been so long. Where have you been, brother?”

That struck a nerve, still open and raw under all the layers that Loki had tried to pile upon it, “I am _not_ your _brother,_ Thor. Not anymore,” he spat, viciously, enough enmity to make Thor blink in surprise. Seeing that, Loki closed his mouth and straightened his shoulders. The outburst, as small as it might have been, was unexpected. His throat and his stomach felt worse than ever. He needed to get away from Thor, before his presence threw off his control completely. Tony Stark was an intricate target, he couldn’t slip up now.

“Get the hell out of here, Thor,” Loki ordered, forcing himself to return to that casual lean on the balcony rail, hiding the broiling emotions that seeing Thor again had brought up.

“Loki,” Thor tried again, gentler this time. Not that it would work, but he had always been a stubborn fool, “I am most sorry for anything that you have experienced. Please, I thought that perhaps we could talk. After all this time.”

A flash of annoyance was suppressed as Loki took a mouthful of the rest of his drink, “I have nothing to say to you.”

A moment passed and it seemed as though Thor was about to try again when blessed relief came in a more welcome voice on the other side of Loki.

“Ah so, you’ve already met,” Tony observed, a grin on his face, drink in his hand, and sunglasses covering his eyes, despite the darkness. He turned his attention to Thor, “I was actually just coming to find you, big guy-”

“My apologies, Tony,” Thor interrupted him, “It is late, I should be leaving,” he gave a soft smile to Loki, “It was good to see you again after so long, Loki.”

Loki simply nodded in return, not making eye contact as Thor walked away.

There was a heavy couple of seconds as Loki recovered his act and composed himself, but Tony took the first cue, “So, I’m sensing…tension?”

Loki gave a soft chuckle and stood upright, facing him, “You could say that. I’d much rather not talk about it if that’s ok with you?”

Tony nodded and lifted his hands in acceptance, “Say no more say no more. Change of topic, I’m pretty sure I said ten,” Tony commented as he came to lean on the railing just beside him.

Loki smirked but kept his gaze out over the city as he answered, “And yet, had I arrived at ten you would have been sorely disappointed.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “Ok, I’ll admit, that’s a neat trick.”

“What if there is no trick?” Loki turned to look at him. It was strange how quickly the discomfort of the encounter with Thor was forgotten once the conversation began to flow, “What if you are simply not as hard to read as you like to imagine.”

“Really?” Tony returned, an expression of annoyance on his face that made Loki worry, momentarily, that he had overstepped the boundary, “Well neither are you, bub.”

He hadn’t. Loki tilted his head down a little to regard him out of the top of his eyes, a challenge in his slightly parted lips, “Oh please do tell. I am _dying_ to hear it.”

Tony licked his lips and tilted his head, looking Loki up and down, “You’ve dressed down,” he stated, “Hair looser, more casual. But the way you carry yourself shows this is about as ‘casual’ as you get. I reckon, you don’t own a single t-shirt in your entire wardrobe. Shame really, they can be quite comfortable,” he paused as Loki chuckled and looked away, more than enough evidence that he was correct, “It means you’re high end. But single,” he finished, watching as Loki glanced sideways at him, smirking playfully.

“You did your research,” Loki commented with amusement.

“I don’t research people.”

“And I am not in the habit of giving out my second name,” he replied with that tone of victory that Tony was already beginning to find he was hearing too much of. Loki sipped his drink, watching as Tony glowered, masking his internal struggle for a comeback. Before the silence became too long, Loki moved the topic along, “Did you come across anything interesting?”

“How do you do that?” Tony replied immediately, the question had clearly been quite prominent in his mind, “There is nothing on you. I mean anywhere.”

“Perchance you were searching the wrong places.”

“I mean. Anywhere,” Tony repeated, deliberately slowly.

Loki grinned, shrugging one shoulder, “I prefer not to have details obtainable to just anyone. It eliminates the waste of my time that many of those that try to find me would be. Those with the means to uncover what slight information there is, are invariably worth my attention.”

Tony eyebrows arched in exaggerated surprise, “Was that flattery, Mr. Laufeyson? What could you possibly hope to gain from that?”

“Nothing I haven’t already,” he replied smoothly, watching him over the rim of his drink before resting his arm lightly on the glass wall of the balcony, “By the way, I hope you’ll indulge me when I ask, did you find out the name of my company?” he asked, only to exhale audibly through his mouth as Tony glanced away, “You disappoint me Mr. Stark.”

Tony visibly winced as his name was said, “See, that just doesn’t sound nearly as good.”

Loki chuckled and looked to his feet, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he moved closer. One hand slid along the top of the glass, gliding up and over Tony’s, stopping only once the tips of his fingers lay just under the cuff of his shirt, brushing the man’s silver watch, the distance between them was nothing more than a hand’s breadth, “I’m sure I can find a way to make it sound so much more pleasurable.”

Tony held his position, intently watching the hand move before flicking his gaze to Loki’s. Not that he was looking back, his ocean eyes were focused keenly on Tony’s lips, letting them linger there for a long, drawn out moment before they slowly lifted, showing him a world of offers unspoken.

A silence hung between them for a second, neither moving nor speaking until Tony lifted his free hand, a single finger outstretched, “Please, for the love of god, hold that thought,” he almost begged, backing up a couple of steps and striding away, lifting his watch to his mouth as he went.

Loki smirked to himself as he watched Tony walk, wondering why exactly he was muttering into his watch. His answer came when bright light from the penthouse had him wincing and shielding his eyes as the main lights burst into life and the music stopped abruptly causing a cacophony of groans. The elevator doors on the far side of the room slid open and the men and women took their cue to begin to filter into it. Only a few actually managed to fit, the others were being shepherded by Steve Rogers through a door that Loki hadn’t noticed before, presumably a stairwell to a lower floor.

Finishing his drink in a final swig, Loki waited until he could see that the penthouse was empty before heading back in, setting his empty glass down on the counter just inside the door. Tony was across the room, stood with his back to Loki, decanting brandy into two waiting tumblers.

“You’re quite the trusting man, Tony,” Loki said, moving across the room in slow, measured steps.

“Hm, that one’s, actually not true,” Tony replied, replacing the lid of his decanter and turning to face his guest.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Loki beamed lifted his hands and gesturing around the empty penthouse, “You and I met only a few days ago. You know nothing of me save for my name. And now you and I are alone,” his expression of curiosity became intense as he got closer, now just a few feet away, “You’re vulnerable.”

“Pfft, please,” Tony answered, “You would not believe the security team I have. Not to mention, the thousands of cameras and the world’s most intelligent AI tha-”

Loki didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence, cutting off his words by sweeping over the final couple of feet and claiming his lips for a much more enjoyable purpose. Hands flowed up to clasp the man’s stubbled cheeks, holding Tony against him as Loki pushed forward, forcing him back against the stone wall. It took Tony a second to recover before he was kissing back fiercely, tongue nimbly parting Loki’s lips and slipping inside, readily greeted. Fingers fumbled for the buttons of Loki’s silver jacket, undoing them with practised ease and gliding around his waist, feeling cool skin beneath the thin shirt. Loki arched against the man as hands roved across his back, running his own fingers up the CEO’s neck, lacing them into his dark hair. Grasping it tightly, Loki pulled Tony’s lips sharply from his, giving a teasing, breathless grin, as he looked down on the man, drinking in the quickened breath, the glisten on his lips, the yearning in his eyes. This was control.

“Now,” he murmured, his head drifting forward to brush his lips against Tony’s ear, cheek against cheek, keeping a firm grip on his hair, “I was promised an after party. Mr. Stark.”

“Well…I won’t have it said I don’t keep my promises,” Tony muttered between heavy breaths, closing his eyes and leaning his head back into Loki’s possessive hand as his neck was nipped and brushed by hot, moist lips, “I know just the place”

Tony could feel Loki’s grin pressing against his own cheek, “Show me.”

And Tony Stark obeyed.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Loki lay awake as the morning sun lanced through the thin gaps in the blinds that hung over the wide window of Tony’s bedroom, one arm tucked under his head, the other hanging over the edge of the bed. He had been awake for some time now, ever the light sleeper, especially in unfamiliar surroundings, with company.

Tony was lying on his stomach close beside him, face buried into his pillow, one arm sprawled possessively across Loki’s bare chest. For a man so energetic, he was a surprisingly deep sleeper, Loki mused to himself as he looked down at him thoughtfully. A silent moment passed before he looked back up to the ceiling with narrowed eyes.

The day was wasting.

Sliding carefully out of Tony’s grasp, Loki stood from the bed, gathered up the clothes that had been strewn across the floor the previous evening and starting dressing himself. Tony had snorted angrily as the warm body beside him was lost but he didn’t rouse, simply grumbled incoherently and rolled over, moving into the warm patch of mattress. Buttoning up his shirt, Loki raised an amused eyebrow as he reran the ‘after party’ in his head, bringing a soft smile to his lips as he plucked his tie from the floor and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. It was rare that his work offered up any kind of small perk, so he had learnt to appreciate them when he could, as one might appreciate a fine wine.

Running a hand through his hair to return at least some of its former neatness, he lifted his blazer gently from the ground, slung it over his shoulder and turned for the door. With no knowledge of when Mr. Stark might wake, Loki wished to use what little time he may have to have a quick look around Stark Tower. Besides, as Loki had discovered the previous night, Tony was not ‘a cuddler’.

The penthouse was surprisingly clean. Had Loki not attended, he wouldn’t have known there was a party at all. He glanced around the room for anything that might be of use to him, but after deciding there was nothing, he headed for the elevator. Despite the significant possibility Loki would not have access to any of the rest of Stark Tower, there was no harm in trying. If he failed, he would simply await his host’s wakening and continue his play from there. Usually he would have already left his target, but if he left now, Tony would undoubtedly lose interest and the game would be over.

He had barely gone two steps before the lift dinged and the doors opened. He stopped in place and watched as Steve Rogers stepped out, smart suit swapped for a jeans and casual shirt, he carried a clip board in the crook of one arm. That same welcoming smile he had experienced last night was still in place though.

“Good morning, Mr. Laufeyson,” he greeted, pleasantly, “Usually, it’s Tony who’s up first after…” he drifted into silence then giving an awkward cough, “Anyway, Mr. Stark asked me to invite you to breakfast this morning. I guess he was expecting to have been up for a while already.”

“He rises early?” Loki enquired, walking beside the PA as the two went back in the direction of the elevator.

Steve nodded, “When I can convince him to actually sleep. He likes to spend most of his time working.”

Loki’s interest piqued immediately, “His latest project is that engrossing that he neglects to sleep?”

“Apparently,” Steve replied, with a tone of exasperation, “Not that I really understand it. He once tried to explain it to me, but it was a bit over my head if I’m honest.”

“A pity,” Loki sighed, not that he had expected much information from a personal assistant, it had been worth a try, “I’m sure it would be most interesting.” He glanced at the lift as they passed. It seemed his initial plan of searching the building would have to be put on hold.

**

The kitchen was an exquisite thing, well suited to Stark’s expensive taste, made up of black granite work tops and brushed, dark steel appliances. Loki paused in the entrance as Steve led him in. There were already a couple of people there, which was more than unexpected. Two women, one red-head in a trouser suit and an undisguised holster at her hip, the second with her hair pulled back into a neat, controlled bun, dressed in a smart skirt and blouse, carrying a clipboard that matched Steve’s. There was a man as well, though his presence brought a mild frown to Loki’s forehead. He wore a similar outfit to the red haired woman, with a matching gun. Offsetting that, however, was the pink apron, the dustings of flour and the pancakes he was currently frying. Any thought that the two with guns were there because he was suspected was immediately washed away.

After a second, he realised that everyone’s eyes were on him and he stepped out of the doorway and took a seat alongside the red-head at the polished breakfast bar. Steve had gone to join what must have been his counterpart, where he made brief introductions, Clint and Natasha, the two that were armed were Tony’s personal security, and the second woman was Pepper, Mr Stark’s second personal assistant. Loki nodded his greetings to each of them in turn as he tried to settle. The unexpected company had thrown him a little. This could be a great opportunity or a massive obstacle. They could have the information he needed, or they would just get in his way.

“And this is Loki,” Steve continued, “Tony’s…friend.”

“Nice to meet ya’,” the man cooking, Clint, said in an oddly blunt yet friendly way, “Grubs up,” without waiting for a reply, a plate slid in front of him.

“Pancakes?” Loki rose an eyebrow at the man as a plastic bottle of syrup was placed alongside it.

Clint shrugged, “Hangover speciality. “

A few minutes after and another party joined them. A doctor of physics by the name of Bruce Banner, according to Steve’s introduction. It was strange to Loki that these employees were gathered around the breakfast bar of their boss’s penthouse, helping themselves to his food. But Loki was not in the position to argue, especially since being in a group like this was a little uncomfortable for him. Groups meant that dynamics were more unpredictable, measuring reactions and responses became more difficult. Control was lost.

However, after a few minutes of casual conversation, Loki found himself easing. It took a while but once he came to realise there was no reason to be so guarded against these people who knew nothing of him and wanted nothing from him, he found himself exchanging jokes and laidback anecdotes with the others. Despite his true motivation, Loki’s ulterior motives would often drift from his thoughts, only to be returned by the casual mention of Tony’s work. He would only gently press for details but the topic would flow on and he would drift with it.

It was a good half hour before Tony joined them dressed in a white t-shirt and loose satin pyjama trousers. He slunk through the door, dropping into the spare seat beside Loki and immediately lowered his head onto the counter. A shot of espresso was placed in front of him without being asked for. At the quiet chink of porcelain on the worktop, Tony lifted his head and tipped it back before returning his head to its previous position.

Now that he was present, the conversation changed from idle chitchat to a more structured meeting. Steve laid out a detailed schedule for the day, occasionally asking for an opinion, getting adequate responses from the group, save for Tony who seemed incapable of anything other than ambiguous grunts. His PA seemed to understand them.

Loki watched with amusement, mostly in silence, as the ‘meeting’ progressed, eating the breakfast that had been prepared for him. This was more akin to a family get together than a business meeting.

Guilt wave number two hit. Hard. It was more than obvious that this was more than just work to these people. What security team cooked breakfast for their charge? What chief physicist was allowed to see their CEO in the state that Tony Stark had emerged in? And Loki already knew how much everything meant to Steve. If he finished his work, it would be more than Stark Industries he would be ruining.

An anxious contortion in his stomach dissipated the small smile on his face and twisted any appetite he had left into mild nausea.

He gently laid his fork to one side and moved his plate away from him. Clint, the one who had been cooking, noticed the movement and gave a quizzical frown as Loki began to stand.

“Somewhere you gotta be?” he asked, the question gaining the attention of the rest of the group, something Loki had hoped to avoid. Even Tony’s head snapped up to peer at him.

He gave a tight, apologetic smile, “Much to my dismay,” he responded, glancing down at Tony before nodding to Clint, “Thank you so much for breakfast, Mr. Barton,” with that he plucked his jacket from the seat and strode for the door, leaving quickly to try to escape the comforting family atmosphere that seemed to surround this workplace.

Tony caught up once Loki was out of the kitchen, already waiting for the lift, staring at him raised, indignant eyebrows, “And you’re busy why? It’s Saturday. No one works on Saturday.”

Loki smirked, having recovered enough from the guilt to regain control over his act, “You do, apparently.”

Tony wafted a hand carelessly, “Odd jobs. I’ll delegate.”

“Even so, I have business to attend to,” he replied, the regret in his voice was real. The pull to return to the surprisingly safe and comforting group in the kitchen was strong. But it was for exactly that reason that Loki was forcing himself to leave.

Tony narrowed his eyes, clearly against the idea but knowing he wasn’t going to win. Eventually, he huffed and lifted his chin, “JARVIS, get someone to bring Mr. Laufeyson’s car round.”

Loki frowned and glanced up as a calm voice spoke over an intercom.

“Of course sir.”

“JARVIS?” he asked Tony.

Tony flashed a proud smile, “World’s most intelligent AI,” he explained simply.

Loki eyebrows rose, truly impressed, only for be distracted as the lift arrived, “Well, call me anytime, Mr. Stark,” with a wink, Loki stepped into the opening doors, quickly pressing the button for the lobby and dropping his smile away.

**

There was, in truth, no where he really needed to be. However, it had become clear that remaining in Stark tower would not yield him any results. Not only that, but it had been now two days since Loki had informed Thanos that he had made contact, they would no doubt be expecting some form of report.

As promised, his car was waiting for him directly outside the doors of Stark Tower, a young man stood by its door. Loki flipped him the customary tip and received his keys in return. The young man scurried away quickly as Loki unlocked and stepped into the car. He paused once he was in the car to send Thanos a brief warning message of his approach. The last thing he needed was someone catching him while he was there. Not that he was looking forward to the visit anyway. They had never truly appreciated those jobs that may require a little more patience.

Still, it was an unavoidable part of his life. He gave Stark Tower one last look before pulling away into the New York traffic.

**

There were very few people around when Loki entered the building. As was his usual habit, he checked his reflection in the glass. A note of worry passed through him as he realised that he was still wearing his outfit from the previous night. It wasn’t exactly proper attire for the meeting, but now he didn’t have time to go back to his apartment and change. He swallowed as he swung his jacket around his shoulders, hoping that would perhaps add some formality to his appearance. But he was still wearing his jeans, a skinny tie, and the jacket did very little.

That familiar knot in his stomach worsened. The anxiousness he felt has grown to the point that he physically flinched when the phone in his pocket vibrated. He almost didn’t want to check it, knowing pretty much the only people who had his number was the man he was about to meet. It was surprising relief when Tony’s number flashed up on the screen, a short message underneath.

_Meeting sucks ass._

There was something comforting about the simple and unnecessary update on Tony’s life. Though it did confuse him a little as to why the man felt the need to inform him of it. With a slight frown, he put his phone away and headed for the elevator, giving the security guard the customary nod as he passed.

The entire lift ride was spent attempting to figure out the reasoning behind Tony’s text. Was he supposed to reply? Or was it a subtle hint that he wanted company? But then why did he not just tell him that? Tony Stark was a long term kind of job that Loki had little experience with. Usually, it was just a simple matter of a one night stand and theft. The other marks rarely knew his real name let alone his mobile number. It was distracting enough that Loki was almost surprised that the elevator door opened.

The man was sat behind his desk, writing. But he stopped when Loki stepped out of the lift doors, looking up and regarding him with intense scrutiny. 

“Ah, Laufeyson,” he drawled, placing his pen gently to one side and folding his hands on the desk before him, “I wasn’t aware it was dressed down day.”

“I have come directly from Stark Tower,” Loki responded flatly.

“Ah, I see,” the man replied, watching him through those small eyes, “Good news I hope. Mr Thanos is very impatient about getting this particular piece of work.”

Loki swallowed, “This job is going to take a little longer than expected,” he had to repress the shiver that came with the man’s immediate shift in demeanour, but he pushed onward despite, “Tony Stark keeps his work a great secret, it is unlikely anyone but himself knows its details. Theft would be difficult without trust. He has what I believe to be a particularly advanced, integrated security system.”

There was a thickness in the air as the man regarded him. After a second, he spoke, in a quiet, slow tone, “You come here, dressed as if this were some party you have swaggered into, and you tell me this is going to take time?”

Loki set his jaw, “It is a simple task, but Tony Stark is a suspicious man. I need a month.”

The man looking at him calmly, his grotesque features making Loki feel real nausea. After a long moment, he returned to his writing.

That was it. The man no longer acknowledged his existence, which was usually Loki’s cue to leave. Which he was more than grateful to do so, though he wasn’t entirely sure he had the deadline he asked for. Still, as he descended the elevator, he set about determining a set by set plan for the time. He just hoped he could actually deliver what he said.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he couldn’t.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The boardroom was a traditional affair. Long grey room, with a long dark table, lined with plush leather office chairs, with empty glasses at each placement and two filled glass jugs of water in the middle. One wall looked out over the city, but at the moment it was blocked out by a series of black blinds, leaving the room dark enough for the presentation being given. Thor was stood to one end of the room, explaining the graph that was currently being projected in the air with the help of JARVIS. His voice needed no help from the microphone system to carry the full length of the room, that was for sure, but still it couldn’t hurt. From Tony’s limited memory of his fellow board members, there was at least one of the older men who was going markedly deaf, not that he would care to admit it. Plus, the volume helped to keep Tony awake. Whilst the rest of the board seemed intrigued with what the body building business man had to say, Tony had to admit he had very little interest or understanding of what he was talking about. Though that wasn’t helped by the fact he was spending most of his time between rerunning the previous night over in his head and checking his phone for the off chance that perhaps Captain Pantene had replied.

It was about 45 minutes in that his phone died.  Without an answer.

With an annoyed huff, he stuffed it into the inside of his jacket and granted his attention to what it was supposed to be.

From what he could gather, Thor was just finishing up a presentation about the positives of a merger with his father’s own company, Asgard Corp. It wasn’t something Tony had a particular interest in either way, it would be something that he had been brought in on more out of courtesy. His side was much more of the technology and innovation side. It was a good thing too, because he had very little idea what was going on. Normally, he wouldn’t even have bothered turning up, but he had plans to ask Thor his own questions, which were a bit more on the personal side.

For the last 15 minutes, Tony felt as though he was back in high school, staring longingly at the clock as other, less enlightened minds continued to prolong his precious freedom with their inane questions. From the looks on their faces, Thor was doing a good job with his presentation. Perhaps they would be seeing more of each other over the coming months.

Eventually, one of the members with more colour to his hair than most declared the presentation to have been ‘very thought provoking’ and lead the others in a short round of applause, which Tony joined, though a little less enthusiastically. It was another few minutes before the board had each cycled through, shaking Thor’s hand and congratulating his speaking skills, before finally filing out discussing whatever it is you discuss at that age.

Thor grinned at Tony when they came face to face once everyone had left.

“Good afternoon Tony,” he greeted as JARVIS lifted the blinds and powered down the projection system, “I’m glad you could attend, Steve told me you were feeling under the weather,” he clapped a heavy hand on Tony’s shoulder with enough force to make the man grunt.

The jolt did nothing to help the sharp, stabbing pain that was already developing in his forehead, but still he forced a smile, “Nothing a quick drink and nap won’t solve, the sign of a good party. How’re you anyway Mr Muscles? Why’d you bail?”

The grin was immediately wiped from Thor’s face and his hand dropped from Tony’s shoulder, “I, er, I had to prepare this presentation for your board today,” he offered a weak smile.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh…and that lovely back and forth I walked in on with you and Loki, had nothing to do with it.”

Thor didn’t make eye contact, he instead turned and began gathering up the papers he’d brought with him to the meeting.

Tony moved round leant on the table to try to regain Thor’s attention, “C’mon big guy, I only want to get to know him a bit,” Tony seated himself on the table, making collecting his papers more difficult for Thor, “You worked together right? Let me guess, you slept together, you both slept with the same person and things got awkward, you broke his ribs in one of those hugs you do, you didn’t invite him to your birthday party,” Tony scowled as Thor continued to ignore him, “Come on! Throw me a bone here.”

At that, Thor exhaled sharply through his nose, and pushed the few loose strands of hair from his face, “Yes, we worked together, but I haven’t seen him in a number of years. 4, if I remember rightly.”

At that, Tony frowned. Loki was becoming more and more intriguing, “Hm…what’s he been doing since then?”

Thor gave a helpless shrug, “I wish I knew, I tried to get in contact with him but he never returned any of my attempts.”

Tony pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

The two of them turned to find Pepper walking towards them, Filofax in tucked under one arm. Tony visibly slumped. The only reason Pepper would be here would mean that Tony was supposed to be somewhere else.

“We were just exchanging work out tips,” Tony quipped.

Pepper gave an uninterested head tilt, “Mmhm, well you were supposed to be meeting Dr Banner half an hour ago. I have to say that a board meeting was a genius place to hide, it is, in fact, the last place I thought to look for you.”

Tony held his hands up helplessly, “Man must still be evolving.”

“My apologies, Miss Potts,” Thor input, “Tony just had a few questions about my former co-worker. I did not mean to keep him from his duties.”

Pepper tried and failed to hide a smirk, “Still stalking your latest conquest I see Mr Stark.”

“It’s not _stalking_ ,” Tony replied, exasperated, “It’s…” his cheeks puffed up a little as he looked for a better explanation, “Ok, it’s a bit stalking, but it’s for a good cause!”

“And what cause is that?” Pepper asked, with a full blown smile on her face.

Tony held her gaze and pursed his lips before suddenly checking his bare wrist, “Oh would you look at the time! I have a meeting with Bruce, do excuse me would you?” with that, Tony hopped off the desk and started for the door.

Thor placed a hand gently on Tony’s shoulder as he went past, “If you see Loki again, could you ask him to send me a message? I fear we parted ways on less than amiable terms. And could you tell him, that I still think of him.”

Tony searched Thor’s gaze for a moment. There was sorrow, regret, a whole world of unspoken stories and truths that Thor clearly did not feel like he wanted to share, so Tony just nodded and walked on.

**

The shower was cold and refreshing, just how Loki liked it. He had been stood there for just over twenty minutes he guessed, from the number of songs that had passed since he’d started. He’d spent the time going over his game plan regarding Stark Tower. Not that he had much of one. So far it involved gaining Tony’s trust, and avoiding Thor if he could. Seeing him again had reopened a lot of things Loki had worked hard to bury deep, deep down. The bastard. How dare he show now, after all this time. Just when Loki could just about say he didn’t care anymore. He’d spent years on that. Telling himself that what happened wasn’t his fault. Telling himself that it was for the better. That he didn’t need them anyway. That he could survive on his own.

He tapped the screen of his phone as he stepped out of the shower, regarding the message from Tony that was still waiting. He was surprised to find a second message now waiting with it. A frown crinkled his brow for a second as he wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed the phone from the side and moved through to the living room. Underneath the earlier message about Tony’s apparently uninteresting meeting was a second one that complained about being pestered by Pepper. The second aide, if Loki’s memory served him. A small scowl creased Loki’s forehead. Why would Tony bother with these trivial updates? It wasn’t like Loki cared. He reread the short messages and shook his head, nope definitely didn’t care. After a moment, Loki simply tossed the phone onto his bed and went about getting dressed before moving through to the living room. He didn’t need this kind of distraction right now. Though how it had become that his mark had already become a distraction, he wasn’t quite sure.

In the living room, he had cleared one wall and put up a picture of Tony Stark at the centre, surrounded by the pitifully few details he had. He had only set it up in the few hours he had free before Tony’s party the day before. It annoyed him how little new information he had today.

He collected the photos that he had started printed out earlier and approached the mostly bare wall, and began to arrange the faces of the people he had met around their boss. As he placed each person in their place, he mentally ran over what his brief scour of the internet had gotten him. It wasn’t much, but then the internet had never been Loki’s forte. He tried to avoid it as much as possible. When he needed it, Thanos had the resources to do the searching for him. But Loki did his best to keep any form of contact with Thanos to a minimum. Unfortunately, in this case, he might need to. Like their boss, there was little information on any of his employees that was readily available.

There was Steve Rogers, ex-army, discharged a number of years ago, reasons undisclosed, as was his rank and regiment. He entered the employ of Tony Stark a couple of years after the fact, as his personal assistant. The photo went up alongside the picture of his boss. It seemed that Stark had some other contacts in the military in the form of a Lt Rhodes, but he probably wouldn’t be all that important. Still, his face went up all the same.

Next, was Pepper Potts seemed to have been in the service of Tony Stark forever, but there was no given start date. An old family friend perhaps, or maybe hired before Stark became a household name. There were one or two old tabloid stories about a flickering romance between the two of them but they were never validated. They certainly weren’t true now, Loki thought to himself with a small smirk as memories of the night before flashed to the front his mind. He allowed himself a moment before pushing them aside and returned his focus. Her photo went up on the other side of the photo to the two military men, different background.

Dr Bruce Banner was a physicist, gamma radiation specialist who seemed to be involved in an unknown capacity with research at a lab that caused some serious injuries and destroyed the lab itself. There were a few newspaper articles about it but no kind of official investigation that Loki could get hold of. There was also no available information on how he and Tony Stark came to be colleagues. However, given the nature of Stark’s new technology, Bruce Banner might be the best person to focus his investigation on, aside from Stark himself of course. He stuck up the photo between Stark and the piece of paper he had annotated with the unknown technology.

For Clint and Natasha, he couldn’t even find their last names, let alone histories. His best guess was ex-military or CIA or something similar. Someone like Tony Stark wouldn’t spare much expense when it came to his personal safety. He put the two of them together a little way away from the others. They probably had no knowledge of Starks actual business, so they were merely people to be careful of. The last thing he needed was them finding him out. He doubted Thanos would provide much protection if that was to happen.

There was one person who Loki knew an unfortunate amount about.

He held the picture of Thor in his hand for a little longer than necessary, fighting the impulse to rip it in two. It would seem that Stark Industries were in the process of some kind of deal with Asgard Industries. A part of him knew that Thanos had had prior knowledge of this before setting him on this course. Probably some twisted way of testing his allegiances. The bastards.

Eventually, he grit his teeth and stuck it up alongside the others then stepped back to survey the developing map of information.

It wasn’t exactly much, but then again he had only just started.

A sharp ding from his bedroom signalled his phone going off. Loki exhaled sharply though his nose and looked towards the noise, already knowing full well who it was. He never received texts before this job. After a second, he looked away. Then looked back again.

It was just going to be another one of those pointless comments, updating him unnecessarily on his life. It was a distraction, both to him and to the great Mr Stark. Surely the man had better things to do with his time than be texting him. Loki certainly did.

Despite that running through his head, Loki found himself sat on the edge of his bed with the phone in his hand.

‘Dinner?’

This was exactly why he didn’t like long jobs. Unexpected twists happened every step of the way. If he said yes then an evening of planning was lost, but if he said no, he might miss opportunities to learn more about his target. Plus, what happened if he made a mistake this early on? There was no way Tony was invested enough to brush through a misspoken comment or misplaced query might throw his whole situation out the window. Though he was used to organised parties and the social situations that came with them, a one on one dinner was a whole different set of rules. He had had to endure them once or twice but that was with several days’ notice and preparation.

Suddenly, Loki found himself with a knot in his stomach.

The phone went off again.

‘I can tell when you’ve read the message you know.’

The knot twisted and Loki told himself it wasn’t panic.

‘Pick you up at 8?’

Loki physically forced his shoulders to relax as his thumbs hovered over the keyboard. After a moment, he replied the affirmative, angrily tossed the phone aside.

**

 


End file.
